


George Pollard: Turning Tide

by skysonfire



Category: In the Heart of the Sea (2015), Moby Dick - Herman Melville
Genre: Ben Walker - Freeform, Captain - Freeform, F/M, Fanfiction, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Island night, One Shot, Sad, Sailor - Freeform, Sex with a story, Ship, Shipwreck, Whaling, nantucket, porn with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysonfire/pseuds/skysonfire





	George Pollard: Turning Tide

The salty, humid weather of Nantucket intensifies his shiny, dark curls. His eyes struggle against the glinting of the sun on the sound's surface and he taps his fingers with an anxious tick at the back of his officer's tunic. 

He is a different man today.

She watches his fine and measured smile -- the way he shakes the hands of his patrons. Everyone trusts his breeding and his cultured angles. Such a splendid example of one of the island's finest families. A bright personification of humanity's future in the light. At least the one that whale oil casts.

But he was a different man yesterday.

In the fading hours he had come to her home with a simple wildflower rest between his fingers. He had tucked it amid the strands of her hair. She was not an example of society's finest and so darkness held their secrets. The ones that whispered of his inexperience and fear, and others that toyed at the suggestion of her low quality and hopeless heart.

"George," she whispered. It was the only sound save for the late year's beating waters against the distant docks and ship hulls.

His round and boyish face was cool in her hands, but his mouth pulsed with a dangerous and angry fire as he rushed against her eager lips. On the back porch as the sun slipped behind the horizon, he shed her laced-back dress. His vest and boots dusted the floor as they stumbled inside the house.

The wild beating between her thighs gave way at the touch of his tongue and he pushed hard inside of her as she panted and grasped at his strong arms. She wanted to buck him; ride him like a stormy sea and feel his tremble inside of her, but he was the captain, and even as he pumped her and huffed at her neck she knew he was somewhere else in his thoughts. He was already on that ship, fighting for command; fighting his decisions; fighting destiny.

"I want to tell you," he murmured later as they bathed in the moon's glow.

She would kiss him in response and his pleading doe eyes implored her, but there was no anchor to bind them.

"The wind always rises here," she said, but only after he passed into sleep.

She watches him from afar and yearns for a farewell to share. He is gleaming and resplendent, topped with a captain's tricorn, but he is already gone from her -- he is already a shipwreck.

And he would be a different man tomorrow.


End file.
